


Feel the Echo

by westandvigilant



Series: Astronomy in Reverse [4]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-11 22:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westandvigilant/pseuds/westandvigilant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shiro's morning routine.</p><p>bridge/tradition. Shallura week day 2.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel the Echo

**Author's Note:**

> I am woefully behind on this. work was crazy. but I really want to participate, so I'll still be putting things up.

Shiro's mornings aboard the Castle of Lions look something like this:

He wakes up at some point. It is not really night, but it is not really the morning either. Shiro wakes up in that depth of unreality between 2:30 and 3:30 am Earth time, soaked in cold sweat and panting. He will swing his feet over the bed and, without the aid of any light, sit in the furthest corner of his bedchamber. The flat coolness of the wall flanking him, the precariousness of resting his forehead upon his knees; somehow all of this is comforting to him. And that is where he will sleep, only somewhat fitfully, for another hour or so.

When he truly rouses for the day, it is still painstakingly early. But he likes it that way. He likes being able to walk the corridors quietly for some time before he has to act more normal than he feels. At this time in morning, Shiro is able to be just as broken as he likes. 

In fact, after he works out and tears yet another sparring bot to pieces, he is free to sit cross legged in the middle of the floor and stare at his _other_  hand. He flexes it. He turns it. Sometimes it glows. Sometimes it does not. He never learns anything new. But it does feel cathartic, in some way, to wallow in his own enigma. 

Next is the shower, which is easily his second favorite part of the morning. The showers on the castleship are nothing short of amazing. It's more like a room where the shower rains from the ceiling. He likes the water hot, nearly scalding as it races down the planes and angles of his body. Hot enough that the steam billows into an opaque cloud that fills every inch of the room and obscures even the worst of his scars. Hot enough that he can feel it heat the surface of his mechanical arm. Shiro does not think that these things are related.

But he does not like to think about it much, anyway.

After he has scrubbed up and dried off, he picks up some breakfast. A mug of black coffee and a small plate of green goo. He never eats it. He picks it up more out of habit than anything else. 

God, he would kill for a bowl of tkg.

The coffee is good though. It's not really coffee, but it's close enough. He doesn't remember what Coran said it was actually called. It is made to be sweetened, so it the drink itself extra bitter. Shiro likes it.

He takes them both and sits on the bridge. Like the rest of the ship, it is quiet. No one is there. He tucks himself into a corner up in the rafters. It takes a little finesse. He balances the breakfast he won't eat and the coffee that is not coffee as he climbs the decorative scaffolding and up into the vaulted ceiling. 

So, he sips his coffee that is not coffee and sits in the rafters, his feet dangling into the expanse of air below. It feels freeing. He can observe. He does not have to be in charge of anything, much less the galaxy's last hope.

He does not shirk that responsibility for long. Maybe about 15 minutes. Maybe a little more. It depends on how long it takes for Allura to walk in.

And that is his favorite part of the day.

Allura visits the bridge first thing in the in the morning. Sometimes Coran is with her. And when Allura is with Coran, she is easier. She laughs easier. She smiles easier. Shiro likes that. 

Most of the time, she is alone. She seems sadder. More melancholy. Her movements are slower. Her fingers do not fly over the keys, they slide. Even from his perch, Shiro can see the heaviness in her eyes. Or maybe he recognizes it. Either way, it always breaks his heart.

He waits for her to leave. Then he climbs back down, scrapes the breakfast he does not eat into the trash, finishes the coffee that is not actually coffee, and leaves to start his day.

It never occurs to him that he is being voyeuristic. 

One morning he is waiting for Allura to appear and she is little late. Not that Shiro is waiting or anything. He is just starting to worry.

Allura sweeps into the room and she is alone. Shiro's heart flutters like it always does when she arrives unaccompanied. She is wearing something thinner than her usual attire. Something more flowing. Something that she likely slept in. And he recognizes the loosened limbs of drowsiness as she crosses the floor. When she reaches the controls she yawns, a small and prim sound, and rubs at her eyes. His brow creases in concern and he leans forward for a better look. 

She hides another yawn behind a dainty hand and the motion draws the line of her nightdress over her shoulder. Instead of fixing it, she runs her fingers through her hair and rolls her neck, humming with satisfaction. Shiro is staring so hard that thinks he may be able to hear the sounds of her vertebrae falling back into place. Which is ridiculous, he knows, but it still feels that way. Did she not sleep well?

Then, she threads her fingers together, raises her arms over heard, and arches her back in a satisfying stretch. 

And moans. It is deep and throaty and wanton and it breaks into a gasp at the end.

It is downright sinful.

Shiro, for his part, turns red, coughs, and flips the breakfast that he did not eat off his lap. It falls, turning through the air, for what seems like forever.

When it finally clatters to the floor, splattering green goo all over the Princess. She stands there for a tick with a confused frown screwed into her mouth before simply turning her face to the rafters.

Shiro wants to crawl into a hole and die. He can see her eyes narrow with effort. "Shiro?" she calls. "Is that you up there?"

There is no way he could explain this away. Unsure of what else to do, he just waves down and affirms that, yes, he is, in fact, up there.

"I can see you haven't touched your breakfast."

Shiro scratches at the back of his neck. "Um, no, Princess. I haven't."

"Okay," she says coolly, "why don't we get some breakfast together. It really is rather important, don't you think?"

"Yep."

"Okay, I'll see you in the kitchen after I've... cleaned up."

After that, it becomes a new a tradition. After finishing his morning routine, he waits in the kitchen for Allura. There they eat and chat and, over time, she becomes easier around him. She laughs easier. She smiles easier.

And Shiro likes that. 

**Author's Note:**

> Princess Allura sounds like a porn star when she stretches, pass it on.


End file.
